


heaven or hell, babe

by VioletLopez



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attempt at Humor, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Smut, Fuck cw, M/M, Please do not hate me for this, Reunion Sex, but i am back, but i wrote it as two 18 year old idiots, comedic smut? is that a thing?, hi this is smut, how do you tag this actually, i am SO sorry for anybody that remembers this acc, i haven't been on here in a year, i wrote this because i hate CW, it's not rlly stated but assume they're 18, not my business, or do actually that would be fair, please Look Away from the parts that don't make sense, the plot is kind of terribly established, this is comedic smut, unless u wanna be weird ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletLopez/pseuds/VioletLopez
Summary: Dean reunites with an old friend. Kind of a bonus how hot his old friend is.-He was such a fucking idiot.And he was also very hard. “Think about Jesus, Dean,” he muttered to himself, but then he just thought about the playground behind the church when he was a kid, and getting pushed down the slide, and sneaking out over the fence to skip Communion when he was thirteen, and now he was thinking about being fourteen and the way that blue sweater felt balled up in his hands, the two of them on Dean’s bed, wrestling like boys do.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	heaven or hell, babe

**Author's Note:**

> ....................................yeah
> 
> if you know me im sorry if you dont im still sorry

“Jesus fucking Christ in hell, Lord fucking save my  _ ass-” _

“Hey, you good?” someone asked. Dean’s head snapped up.

“Do I fucking  _ look  _ good?” he asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

The guy seemed unphased. He just shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I mean… yeah.”

“What?”

“What?”

Dean shook his head. “Look, man, unless you know how to fix this piece of shit, can you fuck off? I’m kind of having a bad day.”

The guy hummed, approaching, and squinted at Dean’s locker. “You can’t open it?”

“Do you think I’m just standing here for fun?”

He scoffed. “No. You don’t seem like the type of guy who has fun,” he replied, so flippantly that Dean didn’t know how to reply at first. By the time he got his voice back, the kid was fiddling with his lock, twisting it back and forth.

“That’s not going to-” It swung open. Dean stared for a long moment. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he said flatly. “How did you- what? What was that? How did you do that?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’m a miracle worker.”

“I hate you.”

“Okay.”

Dean paused halfway through pulling his backpack out. “What’s your name?” he asked, struck with a sudden curiosity. He didn’t really care that much. He might as well know, though, right? Since the guy had opened his locker for him and all.

The guy just blinked. Confusion followed by devastation followed resignation flitted across his face, settling into something blank in seconds. “Why do you care?” he asked, his voice suddenly much quieter, much more flat. Dean almost flinched back at the sudden change in tone.

“I don’t,” he found himself saying, because he  _ didn’t,  _ except he did, because what the fuck did  _ that  _ mean? “I was just wondering.”

The kid scoffed. Scuffed his shoe against the floor. “Should’ve known,” he muttered, and Dean’s blood boiled. Who was this random kid to say it like that? How was  _ Dean  _ the asshole here? He grabbed the guy’s wrist as he tried to shove past him. “What the-”

Dean held on tight. “The fuck did that mean?” he asked. The guy just rolled his eyes. “No, stop that, or I’ll-”

“Or you’ll  _ what?”  _ he snapped. “What are you gonna do?”

Dean stumbled for an answer, his grip loosening. “Well, I’ll- uh-”

The kid ripped his wrist away. “That’s what I thought.” He gave a sarcastic salute. “See you in hell, Dean.”

And then he was gone, and Dean was left staring down the hallway, an empty threat still dying on his lips.

So.

That was some kind of beginning, maybe, if you prefer your beginnings in the middle of the story; the beginning, really, was months before, but how the hell was Dean meant to know that? He barely knew his own birthday. He barely knew how to do synthetic division. Scratch that- he  _ didn’t  _ know how to do synthetic division. So how was he supposed to know where the fuck he’d seen that boy before? Was it supposed to be the glint to his eyes? The constant ghost of a pout on his lips? The faint freckles that lined his cheeks, or the ruffled charm of his hair, or his striking eyebrows that made his expressions more intense than deserved? Was it the gentle strength of his hands, or the swing of his walk, or the way Dean had jerked off to him three times?

Okay, maybe the last one should have tipped him off.

Okay, yeah, fine! He should have known. But he didn’t, so instead he was left staring down a hallway with a thousand questions and a thousand answers and a thousand ways they didn’t fit together. So he solved it the same way he always did: the McDonald’s drive through and a nap in his backseat out front of the apartment. Sammy wasn’t home right now, was off at some friend’s house- when the fuck had Sammy made friends? Genuine question, please respond- and Dean had no real interest in seeing his dad, so he just crammed himself into the backseat of the Impala and let the sunshine lull him to sleep.

He woke up with an answer.

Also a boner, but that wasn’t the point.

Well, it kind of was, actually, but it wasn’t the  _ real  _ point. It was a connected, interesting point. A subpoint, if you will. Definitely something that drew his attention, but not the main revelation he woke up with.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed. He laid there for a moment, readjusting to the waking world and his sudden recollection and his _ very hard dick,  _ before he jerked into the front seat, scrambling for his keys. He didn’t even put on his seatbelt, just shoved the car into reverse and shot out of the apartment parking lot.

He was such a fucking idiot.

And he was also very hard. “Think about Jesus, Dean,” he muttered to himself, but then he just thought about the playground behind the church when he was a kid, and getting pushed down the slide, and sneaking out over the fence to skip Communion when he was thirteen, and now he was thinking about being fourteen and the way that blue sweater felt balled up in his hands, the two of them on Dean’s bed, wrestling like boys do; wrestling, and then Dean froze, straddling him with his sweater in his hands, and if he could go back, if he could go back, he’d lean down right then and kiss those damn words right out of his mouth.

He had already thrown the car into park and scrambled out by the time he thought that maybe the house had been sold at some point in between, but he saw the silver Camaro in the driveway and relaxed. Fuck yeah. He knew that Camaro. It threw a spring into his step, a confidence that propelled him up the side trellis and onto the roof, up to the second story window across from the willow tree. The two of them had always liked sitting under the willow tree.

He was at the window, his fist raised to knock, when he realised this might be a shitty idea.

Then he realised the room was empty, and his heart sank.

_ Then  _ he noticed the window was cracked, and- well. It wasn’t trespassing if you had good reason, right?

He pulled the window closed slowly and turned around. The room hadn’t changed much since he’d last been in it. The same things were hanging on the wall, the same mirror was swinging on the back of the closet door- he caught a glimpse of himself, and  _ oh fuck, the boner was obvious-  _ the same ugly carpeting spread underfoot. He wandered toward the bed, sinking down onto it. There was a hollow kind of nostalgia in his chest, being back here. He’d missed it, maybe. Missed the disgusting shade of yellow on the walls and the crooked bookshelf that only held the third volumes of obscure manga and the duck-patterned lampshade.

God, how hadn’t he known?

“Jesus fucking-”

“Don’t scream!” Dean was up on his feet in an instant, hands in the air. “Don’t scream,” he repeated. “Please.”

The door closed solidly. “What the hell do you want, Dean?” He sounded exhausted. “Did you forget how locks work again, or..?” It was a taunt. A jab meant to make him sneer, roll his eyes.

Instead, it brought a grin up, unbidden. “There’s my Cas,” he breathed. Castiel froze. “Still the same snarky bastard, huh?” He couldn’t hide the giddiness in his voice. “What do you say, angel?” he asked, spreading his arms. “A hug?”

Cas stayed frozen for a few moments longer, but Cas never changed too much, and Cas never changed enough to not want a hug, so he came crashing into Dean’s arms, slotting back into his orbit like he’d never left. “God, I-” his sentence came to a choked end as Dean let out a strangled noise. They stared at each other, Dean’s mouth hanging half open. Slowly, Cas moved his leg so that his thigh didn’t catch Dean’s crotch.

Not slowly, because he had no filter and no regret and no blood left in his brain, Dean said, “Fuck, that felt good,” and then he said, “I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” and then he said, “Nice weather today,” because he really wasn’t sure what to do in this scenario.

Castiel stared at him. “It’s nighttime, Dean.”

“Right.” Dean laughed awkwardly. “Nighttime. Bedtime.” He froze. “Well, not  _ bedtime  _ bedtime, but time for- like, sleep time. That kind of bedtime.”

Castiel blinked. “Dean…” He shook his head. “Dean. It’s been four years, and all you can think about when we see each other again is sex?” He sounded amused, but it still made Dean stiffen up, mouth working uselessly as he struggled for an answer.

“Well, you’re very attractive,” was what he settled on, and then instantly wished he hadn’t settled on. “I mean-” He squeezed his eyes shut. “God. Fuck. I missed you.” Castiel laughed quietly.

“I missed you too,” he said, all soft and sweet and painfully honest about it, and Dean’s heart twisted in his chest. His hands fisted tightly in the back of Castiel’s shirt, and he pulled him closer, closer, as close as he could. His boner was pressing into Cas’s hip, which- yeah, okay, weirdly pleasurable for him, probably weird and not pleasurable for Cas, but he just- he wanted to hold him for a minute. Just feel him. Just remember what it felt like to be close to him. Cas allowed him to, melting into the embrace easily. Dean’s fists balled up in his shirt even tighter, dragged him even closer, buried his face in his shoulder-

And then Cas shifted, just slightly, and he yelped, his whole body jolting. “I-” He recoiled, face burning. “Sorry. Sorry, I just…”

Castiel blinked again, the familiar look of bafflement rising to his face for just a moment before it melted away into a smile. Dean swallowed hard. “It’s okay.” He glanced at his door for a moment before he looked back at Dean, his smile tilting towards mischief. He nodded at his crotch, which was- a new and kind of overwhelming moment. “That’s kinda ruining the mood, huh?”

“Uh-” Dean scrambled for words. “Just a little. Maybe.” Getting a sudden rush of stupidity, or confidence, or maybe both because weren’t they usually the same with him, he added. “Wanna help me out?”

Oh, fuck.

Who  _ said _ that? What kind of bad porno was he- oh, Cas was still smiling. Oh. Okay.

“Do you want me to?”

Oh, fuck. Oh, wow.

“I used to jerk off to you,” Dean blurted out, because hey! If he was going to put his foot in his mouth once, he might as well do it again, right? “Not in, like, a weird way-”

“How is there any way that’s not a weird way?”

“Not in a gay way.” Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a little bit of a gay way,” Dean conceded. "But- I-" He took a deep breath. "You're- you were my best friend, okay? How was I supposed to-" he waved his hand in Cas's direction. "You're  _ cute,  _ and I was going through puberty, so-"

"So you had private sexual fantasies about me."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "I- no, yeah, I did. You don't have to say it like that, though."

"How would you prefer me to say it?" Cas asked, and he was stepping closer, and oh fuck, Dean kind of doesn’t know what to do in this scenario, so he just makes a weird strangled noise and blinked hard. Castiel nodded solemnly. “Alright. I don’t know how to make that noise on command, though.” His face was twitching towards a smile.

Dean made it again, because he really,  _ really  _ wasn’t sure what to do. Castiel mimicked him. “I- okay, shut the fuck up.”

“Okay. Can I suck your dick?”

Dean would love to say he hesitated. He paused, and took it in, and appreciated the way the light was flashing through Castiel’s eyes, the way his hair was delightfully tousled, the beginnings of stubble shading his chin in a strangely attractive way. He sank down onto the bed and spread his knees with an inviting smile, and Cas knelt down, their hands entwining atop Dean’s knee. It was warm and welcome and sweet, and everything a reunion could dream to be.

In reality, he said “God, please,” before he even finished processing, and then his knees were hitting the edge of the mattress and he pretty much fell backwards, catching himself on his elbows. “Shit,” he hissed. “I-”

Castiel’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Just relax, okay? Here-” he lowered himself to the floor and reached for the buckle of Dean’s belt. “Is this okay?”

“Fuck yes,” Dean said, and that was all the incentive Cas needed to undo it. He sat back on his heels to let Dean kick his pants away, but only bothered letting his boxers get down to his ankles before he shifted back into position, looking fascinated. “Is this-”

Cas smiled up at him. “It’s good, Dean,” he assured, his voice low. “Just let me take care of you.”

And fuck- how was he supposed to argue with that?

The first touch of Castiel’s hand on his dick had him whimpering, one hand clasping over his own mouth. “I didn’t make that noise,” he gasped. “If anyone asks.”

Castiel hummed, his hand pumping slowly, steadily. It was too tight, too dry, too intense, and it was fucking perfect, and Dean’s entire body was flooding itself with pleasure. “I sure hope nobody asks, but I’ll keep it in mind,” he replied, and then did something with his wrist and twisted the same noise right out of Dean’s mouth again. He looked pleased with himself for it, and Dean snorted. “Oh, shush.” Cas leaned in, pressing a kiss to the head. Dean’s body shuddered again.

“Can you just-”

“Be patient, asshole,” Castiel muttered, and did the same thing with his wrist again. He swiped his thumb through the pre-come, laughing a little. “This is fun.”

“It’s not fun for me,” Dean retorted. It was, of course, because how could it not be fun, because Cas was here on his knees with him and his whole body was burning like a star and he hadn’t felt this good, hadn’t felt this giddy, in far too long a time.

Cas raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you want me to stop?”

“No!” Dean flushed as Castiel grinned, a teasing edge to it. “Ah, fuck. Fucking- I hate you,” he grumbled, his eyes fluttering slightly as Cas traced a finger up the vein on the underside of his cock.

“Clearly,” Cass replied, and then finally,  _ finally-  _ okay, it had been, like, three minutes, but he was kind of pent up, okay- he wrapped his lips around the head, his tongue flattening under the head. Dean groaned, his hands clenching in the covers. Cas slid a little further down. The warmth was on the edge of overwhelming, tight and burning around him, and Dean’s eyes rolled up as he let out another low whine. “You’re loud,” Cas said frankly, pulling off.

Dean scrunched up his nose. “You’re annoying,” he retorted. Cas just shrugged and leaned back in, accepting Dean back into his mouth. Dean meant to say something snarky, but then Cas traced his tongue up the same vein he’d mapped with his finger before, and his words fell into a moan instead. “Oh fuck,” he said without meaning to. “Fuck, Cas-” Cas kind of laughed around his dick, which definitely shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. “How did that not choke you?” he muttered, bewildered.

Cas pulled back again. “Dean?”

“Mm?”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

“Right, yep, okay. Shutting up n- oh  _ fuck,  _ angel-” Cas somehow managed to roll his eyes, even sunk halfway down his dick, and Dean clutched at the bedsheets, his teeth digging into his lip. Another low groan slipped out. “Angel,” he whispered again. Cas’s hand raised up to the sheets, splaying open. Dean blinked, struggling to process, before he realised what it was an offer for and tangled their fingers together. “God, you’re so good. Feels so good.” Castiel’s free hand twisted at the base again, and fuck- “Gonna- Cas, Cas, I-”

Castiel pulled back, keeping up a steady rhythm with his hand. “Okay, Dean,” he said. He was smiling. “It’s okay, baby.”

And maybe it was the look in his eyes, maybe it was the feel of his hand, maybe it was that fucking nickname, but Dean was gone.

“Eugh,” Cas muttered, using the edge of his sheets to wipe off what had gotten on his face. “Okay. Laundry is going to be fun this weekend.”

Dean hummed. “You ever seen that porno with the dryer?”

“That sounds… very straight,” Cas replied. He sat back. “Ow. My knees hurt.”

Dean winced in sympathy. “Sorry, babe. Come up here?”

“No,  _ you-” _

“If you finish that sentence, I swear to God-”

“Please don’t say anything religious before you put your dick away.” Dean swore under his breath and used the sheets to wipe himself off- “Seriously, Dean?” before he pulled his boxers up, not bothering with his jeans. He flopped back on the bed, jerking his head in invitation. Cas stretched out next to him; they were close, almost touching, but not quite, still hovering a few inches away. Those few inches burned.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Jesus, man,” he muttered, and hooked an arm around Cas, pulling him over on top of him. “You just sucked me off, don’t get all shy now.”

“Mm,” Cas replied, and then rolled his hips pointedly against Dean’s thigh.

Dean sucked in another breath. “Oh, jeez,” he murmured, pressing his leg up against him. “This good, angel? Wanna get off on my thigh?”

Cas groaned, his hand hooking around Dean’s jaw, and dragged him into a searing kiss. Dean probably shouldn’t have been so cool with that, considering it was the same mouth that had just been wrapped around his dick, but sanitation seemed pretty secondary when he had Castiel on top of him, biting at his lip and grinding against him. “I thought I told you to shut the fuck up,” he whispered, pulling back slightly.

“Uh huh,” Dean answered vaguely, still distracted by the lingering heat on his lips. “Hey, can you-” he pulled him back in again, and again, and again, and kissed him what felt like a thousand times, drinking it in over and over and over, his head going fuzzy with the pleasure of it all. “I love you,” he whispered.

And Cas shuddered, his whole body rolling, and came apart.

.

.

“So,” Dean said, several minutes later, when Cas had changed and the two of them were lying tangled together on the bed. “That was fun.”

Cas kissed his jaw. “Dean, I love you, but please-”

“Shush.” Dean cut him off with a proper kiss. “I just wanna lay here and feel good with you, angel.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but they were soft and warm and made Dean’s heart melt a little, even as he faked scorn. “Okay,  _ baby,”  _ he replied, a laugh hanging in the back of his voice.

And yeah, Dean thought, running a hand through Castiel’s hair. This was pretty okay.

**Author's Note:**

> i mean hopefully it wasn't awful? i know it's kinda rushed i said let's speedrun this shit but!! hopefully it was palatable. lemme know, i guess?? anyway fuck CW


End file.
